


All That Matters

by xikra1648



Series: There's Nothing Holding Me Back [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: 'clean' version, Arguing, Drama, F/M, Romance, Some comedy, reference to smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xikra1648/pseuds/xikra1648
Summary: You didn't know what Akira's problem was, but it had to stop.  You planned on just talking with him, clearing the air or at least finding a way to work with each other without dragging the team down.Things did not go as you planned...





	All That Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Persona 5 is a damn tease. All that time working out to get stat buffs and then Akira takes his shirt off to work out. I was so happy, I actually fangirl squealed and I haven’t done that since high school, all you need to know is that was over five years ago, and then he worked out twice and the game said, ‘no more stat buffs for working out at home.’ So now I gotta spend my money (I have a few million now that I’m on my second New Game + but shush) to, what, watch bae work out with his clothes on?
> 
> Goddamn tease.
> 
> I would also like to warn you that this does not mean, at all, that the series, heartbreak, or overall drama is over. This is basically the beginning of the climax, from here it becomes far more heartbreaking and dramatic, just like every other romance in media the leading lad and lady hooking up is just to get you all excited before things go to hell and you start crying.
> 
> So, on one hand, I’m sorry. On the other hand this is part of the plan and I’ve had a few Bloody Mary’s so…I’m kind of not?

# There's Nothing Holding Me Back

### All That Matters

 

After the fall of Madarame’s palace it was time for a break.  It would be a nerve racking break for the next two weeks, seeing as you had managed to steal the treasure _well_ ahead of schedule and now had to wait for a change, but that was all you could do for now.

Akira had called for a night off, seeing as the trip to Mementos the day before involved a grand total of five requests and reaching a sealed door that wouldn’t allow the team to pass any further.  After checking with Ryuji that the team leader didn’t have any plans, the speed of which those two became best friends was almost frightening, you made your way to your gymnastics practice, planning on taking an admittedly long detour home to speak with Akira in his room above Leblanc.  You said ‘hi’ to Boss as he closed up, reassuring him you were there to see Akira and not for coffee, before making your way to the attic.

You knew you were a mess after your workout, still dressed in your skin-tight black leggings and violet tank-top, you had thrown on a button-up cardigan for some semblance of modesty but wore nothing but ballet flats for shoes.  Your long hair was still in the atrociously messy bun you threw it into, strands falling along your neck and around your face, and you didn’t want to even think about how your makeup looked.  You hadn’t thought anything about it, not seeking to impress the boy, until you found him hanging by his knees from one of the rafters, his shirt and glasses gone as he did crunch after crunch, a light sheen of sweat on his skin.

Now wonder he seemed like he was in such great shape…he wasn’t a muscular giant but he was definitely cut.

**_Stop, stop, stop!_ **

“Akira, we gotta talk,” you announced your presence, though you expected Akira already knew you were there.  He grabbed the edge of the rafter before easily flipping down and landing on his feet.

“Morgana, go take a walk.  This could take a while,” he spoke calmly, but there was no denying he was giving the strange talking cat an order.  While you could easily argue with Joker in the Metaverse, there was no arguing with Akira in the real world.  

It was an amazing duality between Akira and Joker, even though you _knew_ they were the same person.  You had seen Joker’s eyes soften in mercy and kindness, and Akira’s eyes harden with a cold and calculated anger, which in itself was a contradiction.  While his mere presence demanded respect, and even _obedience_ in the Metaverse, he never carried himself as anything other than a 16-year-old boy that was going to, lackadaisically, make the best of the unusually hard life he was given.  He could give orders in the Metaverse that would be ignored for one reason or another, and unless it resulted in botching the heist or putting someone in danger Joker just shot an angry look and moved on.  _Akira_ , on the other hand…you didn’t argue with Akira when he made a demand, for the simple fact that he _never made them._   While Joker was an open book…Akira was still a mystery and potentially a ticking time bomb.

With a whine, Morgana leapt down from where he was seated on the rafter, stopping to say _hi_ to you, and taking his exit through the open window and down the tree outside the shop.  Your eyes stuck on the boy grabbing the t-shirt you suspected he had been wearing and using it to wipe at the sweat on his brow before leaning back against the table on which his television was placed, his arms crossed in front of his firm chest.  You stepped away from the stairs, placing your bag next to Akira’s on the table by the stairs before leaning back against it, your hands clutching at the edges to keep yourself grounded.

“It’s hard not to miss the fact we’ve been arguing more lately, and it’s starting to mess with the team,” you explained, leaning back as your shoulders shrugged upwards in an uncharacteristic show of nerves.  What the hell was it about this boy that did this to you?  You were a strong young woman, at least you had spent years making sure everyone else saw you as such, so how was it he was able to just break through the walls and see the shy teenage girl inside?

“Stop being so damn difficult and we won’t have a problem,” Akira retorted, grabbing his gray t-shirt and black sweatshirt.  He was normally calm, collected, even if some smartass comment slipped through nobody would know better unless they knew him, or had a reason to be suspicious of him.  But you…you just shot right past years of getting himself under control and straight to the heart of the beast within.

“ _Me?_ ” you snapped, “You’re the one that gets bitchy every time I try to help!”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?  Helping?” Akira questioned critically, raising a brow as he stared you down with those cool gray eyes.

“If it weren’t for me we never would have made it through that painting puzzle in Madarame’s palace!” you snapped.  It was partially true, though Yusuke could have easily deciphered the puzzle he wasn’t speaking up as you wandered through the distorted and gaudy workings of Madarame’s heart.  You were going to let Joker handle it, at first, before you noticed that art wasn’t exactly his specialty.  A bit ironic, considering he was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but you supposed studying and stealing art were two wildly different things.  Still, he needed help and you were, apparently, the only one who was going to do anything about it.

You clearly hit a nerve, as you saw the irritation flicker through Akira’s eyes and his jaw tightened before it all slipped away.  He just let it out with a long and quiet sigh as he stepped across the wood floor of the attic he lived in and walked towards you.  He was standing so close to you and for a second you wondered just _what_ his intention was, Akira was a wild card after all, until he tossed his shirt and jacket with the rest of his laundry in the small basket sitting on the ledge behind the table you were leaning against.  He attempted to protest, to argue, to save face, but you cut him off before he could even finish.

“I would have figured it-“

“Taking random guesses and getting us lost isn’t figuring it out.  It’s just some egotistical jackass getting us killed because he’s too proud to admit he needs help.”

You had just hit Akira’s _last_ nerve.  His day started out with the Student Council President tracking him down in the subway and claiming he was ‘lying low,’ which of course he was, he was on _probation_ for fuck’s sake, then he got dragged into being the victim of yet another one of Takemi’s _questionable_ tests and had felt on-edge since he _woke up.  H_ e had been trying to work off the adrenaline high by working out, and then _you_ came along… 

 _You_. 

He could brush off everything that anyone said, or even did, except for _you._   You just slipped right to his core and everything about you struck him, and he had yet to decide if it was good or bad.  His entire life he had been able to keep his distance and keep people from getting close, even his own parents, but you just…

Akira placed a hand on the table, so close to where you were clutching the edge of the table, and you were forced to look up as he stood upright.  That look in his eyes as his gray eyes stared into yours, you could only describe it as _predatory_.

“Or maybe it’s just some little know-it-all that thinks she can get away with being a pain my ass because she’s cute.”

The direction the conversation took was an unexpected one, for starters you hadn’t expected him to outwardly admit he thought you were cute.  You had no idea how it happened, everything just snapped and… _happened._   Akira was positively _demanding_ in his kiss, slipping your sweater off and tossing it somewhere before you even knew what happened, and while you made an attempt to fight back, it was a poor one as you tangled your hands in Akira’s hair.  His calloused and deft hands moved from the table behind you to your waist, and one trailed down to your bottom to give it a squeeze.  You let out a soft moan and relaxed, letting Akira catch you off guard by picking you up to place you on the table behind you.

He was too good at this to be _new_ at it, though if your suspicions of him were right you wouldn’t be surprised if he had _some_ experience.  He was an attractive young man, even girls who fell for that daft rumor he was a homicidal maniac giggled when if he said so much as ‘hi’ to them, and his writing and gift for language had even Mr. Chouno swooning at times, and there was-admittedly circumstantial-evidence that he was on the Soccer team in his last school…

Grasping your thighs, he hoisted you up, you naturally wrapped your legs around his waist, and carried you over to his bed, depositing you onto the mattress and pinning you there.  You couldn’t even bother to care if he left marks or if you made noise, the way he bit and sucked at your neck and collarbone was far better than you ever thought it would be.

All thoughts, all consideration, all _logic_ left your mind.  Suddenly your visit wasn’t about the team, you couldn’t even remember what brought you and Akira together in the first place.  You didn’t even care if it led to anything, all thoughts of it being your first time being thrown out the window as you just _knew_ you wouldn’t regret _the_ Phantom Thief stealing your innocence.

All that mattered was you and him.

“No, marks,” you ordered, between gasps of pleasure and throwing your head back to give Akira access to your neck.  As much as you didn't care, personally, you knew there were people who _would_.  That was something you didn't want to deal with.

To _you_ it was an order.  To _Akira_ it was more of a _suggestion._

A suggestion he promptly _ignored_.


End file.
